Singe Dad on Tap Read online

  SingLe Dad on Tap

  Cathryn Fox

  Contents

  Copyright

  Single Dad on Tap

  1. Olivia

  2. Jesse

  3. Olivia

  4. Jesse

  5. Olivia

  6. Jesse

  7. Olivia

  8. Jesse

  9. Olivia

  10. Jesse

  11. Olivia

  12. Jesse

  13. Olivia

  14. Jesse

  15. Olivia

  16. Jesse

  17. Olivia

  18. Jesse

  19. Olivia

  Afterword

  The Playmaker

  Also by Cathryn Fox

  About Cathryn

  Copyright

  Single Dad On Tap

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  * * *

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN Ebook: 978-1-989374-13-9

  ISBN Print: 978-1-989374-14-6

  Single Dad on Tap

  Single Dad on Tap

  1

  Olivia

  “Rain, rain go away.”

  I push open the heavy pub door, hold my palm out and lift my face to the dark sky. Any second now, those heavy clouds are going to open up and saturate the downtown streets of Boston. I only live three blocks away, but if I hurry, maybe I can make it before that happens. I snort. As if I have that kind of luck. Still, I have no choice but to hoof it on foot, so I tuck my apron into my backpack, step outside and let the pub door fall shut behind me.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  I hit the sidewalk and start speed walking home. The jiggling of my ass might not be pretty, but I can’t run. No, running and I, well… we’re not friends. We never have been, which is why I’ve been curvy for as long as I can remember. I make it one block, almost halfway there, and I’m about to throw up a hallelujah when a bright flash zigzags across the sky, followed by rumbling thunder, and big fat rain drops.

  “Well, hell.”

  I put my backpack over my head and pick up the pace. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I should take his advice and borrow a few bucks from my Stanford college fund to buy an old beater for rainy days like these. With my Dad’s ill health, he doesn’t drive anymore, but at least his trips to the hospital are less and less frequent.

  I’m not one to ask others for things, and getting an Uber every now and then to take him to his appointments is a lot cheaper than owning a car. Not that we ever had to rely on an Uber. Jesse, the guy whose lived next door to me since we were kids, and owner of Burgers and Brews Pub where I work, has always been there to lend a helping hand. But he’s a single dad, who works all hours running his own business. With those kinds of demands tugging at him, he doesn’t need to be taking on my problems.

  Speaking of my neighbor…

  I turn my head as his vehicle slows next to me on the street. The rain-soaked window slides open, and a little sigh catches in my throat when my gaze lands on his handsome face. I resist the urge to smooth my hand over my wet hair and primp like a love-struck teenager. The effort would be futile. We’re friends, and he’d never see me as anything more.

  “Get in,” he says, and I nod. I step off the curb and my foot lands in a deep puddle. Well, isn’t my day just getting better and better. I curse under my breath as he leans over to open the door for me and I slide into the passenger seat. I set my wet backpack on the floor beside my drenched shoe, and push my hair from my face.

  “I’m getting your car all wet.”

  He shrugs and casts me a fast glance. My heart wobbles, the way it always does when I become the sole focus of his attention. “It’s just a car.”

  With so much responsibility on this man’s shoulders, I have no idea how he remains so laid back and easygoing. But I guess that’s what makes him a great bar owner/bartender. I’ve known him long enough to know he’s given up a lot to take over the pub after his parents died years ago, when his son was less than a year old. Burgers and Brews was their pride and joy—it’s been in the family for generations—and Jesse is loyal to a fault, giving up his dreams so he could keep theirs alive. It’s commendable, yet I’m not sure that’s what they wanted for him. Not that I could tell him that. It’s not really my business. But I hate that the man threw his dreams away.

  He glances over his shoulder to check for traffic. “You should have called me.”

  “It’s your day off, Jesse. Besides, I’m a big girl. A little rain doesn’t hurt me. I’m not made of sugar, you know.” I peer into the back seat. “Hey Lucas,” I say. “How are you?”

  Lucas doesn’t acknowledge me. He rarely does and I’ve gotten used to his behavior over the years. With high-functioning autism, he has trouble engaging socially. I wait for an answer, but sweet little Lucas, all of five years old, continues to stare at the dinosaur book in his hand.

  “Lucas,” Jesse says, his voice deep. “Olivia is talking to you.” Lucas lifts his head and stares at his dad in the rearview mirror. “Answer her, please.”

  “I’m good,” he says, and goes back to his book.

  “I think he’s going to grow up to be a writer,” I say. “Or a dinosaur.” Jesse flashes me a smile. The love he has for his son fills his eyes and spills onto his handsome face. My God, does he have to be so damn good looking? What did I do in a past lifetime to live next to the hottest guy on the planet—one who had a baby with my best friend and has never seen me as anything more than the chubby girl next door? He might be every girl’s type, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not his.

  “He does love books,” he says.

  I grin. “He takes after his dad.” The smile falls from his face and I mentally curse myself. Shit, he’s probably thinking about how he’s glad Lucas doesn’t take after his mom, Kylie. She up and left when Lucas was closing in on two years old—after his diagnosis. She’d been back and forth a few times, always causing chaos in their lives, but no one has heard from her in the last year. She just ghosted us all.

  Kylie and I became instant friends when she moved here with her mother and stepdad in tenth grade. She was loud, fun and vivacious, and I never knew why she wanted to be friends with the nerdy bookworm. There were times I thought it was to get closer to Jesse, but she didn’t need me for that. She was like a damn glowstick and attracted attention everywhere she went. Top that off with a rich stepfather who tried to buy her affection, and in my books, she had it all. I was happy for her, though. I’m just not happy with the way things worked out between her and Jesse. I want him to be happy.

  “How was
work?” Jesse asks, changing the subject.

  “Busy. People have nothing to do but hang out, play pool and drink beer with this wet weather. Plus, tonight is paint night.” I chuckle. “People are coming in early to grab a bite to eat beforehand. Dad is there now, eating and drinking and guarding the best seat in the house.”

  He chuckles. “God forbid anyone who tries to steal Jack’s seat at the front of the class.” He casts me a quick glance, that dimple on his right cheek toying viciously with my libido. “Like father, like daughter.”

  I whack him, and wish I hadn’t. When my hand hits his taut stomach muscles, ribbons of need reverberate through me, hitting all my girly spots. “I’m not that bad,” I say. It’s a lie. I am. I’m a nerd, the girl who sits at the front of the class, and take copious amounts of notes. It’s not a bad thing, though. All my hard work has paid off, and come September, I’ll be attending Stanford’s Human Resource Management master’s program. I want to be a human resource consultant and help organizations, plus moving Dad to a warmer climate will be so much better for his rheumatoid arthritis. The cold and damp here in Boston is very hard on him.

  Jesse pulls into my driveway and I snatch up my wet backpack. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Nah, you’ve been doing so much at the pub, I owe you one.”

  “Happy to help.” He’s been such a good friend, always been there for me, and I like being there for him, too.

  “Okay, go,” he says, glancing out the front window as the rain slows, like it’s taunting me, daring me to step from the vehicle. “Try to run between the drops.”

  I laugh, jump from the car and run. As I hurry up my driveaway, another cloud bursts open right over my head and drenches me. Yelping, I dash up the three steps to the old bungalow I’ve lived in my entire life, even when attending Boston University.

  I turn and wave to Jesse and Lucas when I reach the covered porch. Jesse backs out of my driveway and pulls into his beside mine as I search my backpack. Where the hell is my key? I put it in there this morning. I specifically remember doing it. I crouch and empty the contents of my bag onto the welcome mat.

  “Where the heck is it?”

  The wind picks up, and a chill goes through me. I could call Dad, but I don’t want him walking home in this, and I don’t want him to lose his seat. I give a resigned sigh, and spot Jesse and Lucas heading inside their home. He usually has a spare key but last week, I had to get it from him when I couldn’t find mine—and of course I forgot to give it back. This is becoming a bit of a habit. I guess I’ll have to take shelter at their place and wait out the storm. Dad’s old friend Heidi, who he paints, plays bingo and goes to garage sales with, will drive Dad home after they finish painting, until then…

  I dash down the stairs and run to the neighboring house. I rap on the door and a few seconds later it swings open.

  “What’s up?” Jesse asks, frowning as he takes in the wet mess that is me. “I thought you were going to run between the drops.”

  I point upward. “There was a big-ass cloud itching for a fight.”

  “It obviously won.” His gaze drops, and I put my backpack in front of my soaked chest—not that he was ogling me or anything. He wasn’t. But I look like I just came from a wet T-shirt contest and don’t want him to think I’m flaunting or flirting or anything. Not that I’m good at either one of those things.

  “I can’t find my key.”

  “Again?”

  “I know.”

  He widens the door. “Then come on in.”

  I step inside and a cold shiver goes through me as he swings the door shut. “It’s so weird. I know I put it in my bag.”

  He frowns. “You don’t think someone at the pub is going into your bag, do you?”

  “I can’t imagine. It was in my locker in your office.” I shake my head. “Maybe I just forgot. My days are all running together.”

  “That’s because you’ve been working too hard.”

  He’s not wrong. I’ve been working extra hours to save for Stanford. Dad gave up work at the paper when he was diagnosed with respiratory disease, and is living on a pension. He’s offered to help but I’m not taking his retirement money, and this is something I want to do on my own. Besides, I don’t mind helping Jesse out and lightening his load.

  “Things should slow down tomorrow after the firefighters’ pancake breakfast,” I say.

  “I’ll be there to help out first thing, too.” Gorgeous blue eyes lock on mine as he steps closer and runs his hands up and down my arms to create heat with friction. He’s a smart guy, one of the smartest I know, but he has no idea what his touch and close proximity do to me. Maybe I should be in theater instead of human resources. I’ve gotten so used to acting like his mere presence does nothing to me. Truthfully, I pride myself on my honesty, except for when it comes to my feelings for this man.

  “Right now, we need to get you out of those wet clothes,” he says.

  Oh God.

  As my mind envisions exactly how I’d like to remove them, my body warms all over.

  Get it together, Olivia.

  I might have had the hots for him since I was a teen, but he doesn’t think about me like that. No, to him, I’m the girl next door, his buddy, friend-zoned forever. No way would I ever try something and risk rejection or awkwardness between us. Having him in my life as a friend is better than not having him at all. Not to mention his ex was my best friend.

  “I’m just getting Lucas something to eat and settled. Why don’t you grab some clothes from my dresser and jump into a hot shower.”

  I peer around his shoulders and spot Lucas at the kitchen table. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting?” Routine is very important to Lucas, and I don’t want to do anything to disrupt it.

  “Of course not.”

  Even if I was in his way, cutting into his precious time with his son, and messing with their routines, he’d never turn me away. He’s seriously one of the nicest guys I know.

  My teeth chatter when I say, “That sounds perfect, actually.”

  “Head on up. Lucas is just having a snack.”

  I nod and he turns sideways to clear the path. I walk past him in the narrow entranceway, my body brushing his. It’s all I can do to swallow a moan as I bump his hard muscles and revel in the way his heat wraps around me.

  I dart up the stairs and walk to his room. During college, he lived in an apartment, but after his parents passed away, he moved into their home to singlehandedly raise his son. I step into his bedroom and take a breath, my heart somewhere around the vicinity of my throat.

  It’s been a while since I’ve been in here, and the once messy bedroom, clothes on the floor, and football trophies everywhere, is now clean and stark, giving an unlived-in feeling. I understand he has to keep his space clean and minimal for his son’s sake—everything in order helps Lucas keep a calmness in his chaotic life. Jesse does an amazing job caring for his son, but it does beg the question, who the hell is caring for him? From the looks of his room, this man isn’t living, he’s simply going through the motions of getting from one day to the next. He needs more, he needs something for himself. That much I know. But he hasn’t been with anyone since Kylie. I hate that she bolted and broke his heart.

  Pushing those sad thoughts down, I step up to his dresser. My hand goes to my stomach as I take in the silver frame showcasing a picture of father and son. Emptiness takes up residence inside of me. Two years ago, the doctors told me my chances of conceiving were slim to none. Thanks to my painful endometriosis, and the severe scarring on my tubes, movement of egg and sperm through the tube is near impossible. If I ever get married, it would have to be to a guy who is okay with no kids. Not that I see marriage in my future. I have to get over the crush on the man whose room I’m in before I can move on.

  I tug open Jesse’s dresser and find a pair of sweats and a big T-shirt. I glance over my shoulder to make sure the coast is clear before I bring them to my nose and inhale his fabric soften
er. Pathetic, I know.

  God, I am such a creeper.

  Footsteps sound on the stairs, followed by Jesse’s voice as I make my way to the main bathroom and shut the door behind me. I strip off, not an easy chore when my jeans are soaking wet. I finally get undressed and hop into the shower, turning the spray to super-hot. I revel in the heat and lather my body with Jesse’s body wash. Now I’m going to smell like him all night, which probably isn’t a good thing. No, it will just have my thoughts going in a direction they have no right going.

  Once I’m warm and clean, I step from the shower and reach for a towel. Before I can get my hands on it, the bathroom door flings open and hits the wall with a thud.

  “Jesus,” I yelp, and nearly slip on the floor.

  Jesse comes racing in behind Lucas, yelling at him to stop, but alas, it’s too late. My hot neighbor comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide and horrified as he stands behind his son, gaping at my nakedness.

  Dear ground, please open up and swallow me whole.

  He grabs Lucas by the shoulders and turns him around, and gentleman that he is, he pinches his eyes shut.

  “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t think he realized you were in here and he got away before I could stop him.”

  I snatch the towel and wrap it around my body. “It’s okay,” I say, even though I’m completely and utterly mortified. “It was an accident.”

  With his eyes still closed, he points. “There’s a towel.”